The Bleed

The Wave-Lord emerged from the darkness behind the dais.

It was a monstrosity of shifting currents, a giant formed of the flood itself. It had no eyes, only a gaping maw that inhaled the air of the room, leaving Caelum gasping for breath.

Caelum raised his sword, but his arms felt impossibly heavy. It wasn't just fatigue. It felt as though invisible vines were wrapping around his wrists, pinning him to the spot.

"Let... go!" Caelum snarled, trashing against the invisible bindings.

The world flickered.

For a terrifying second, the dark, mossy stones of the Sanctum dissolved into blinding white curtains. The bioluminescent glow turned into the harsh, buzzing glare of fluorescent strips.

The Wave-Lord wasn't a water monster. It was a looming figure in white robes—a White Giant.

"Hold him down," the White Giant boomed. The voice was deep, muffled, as if coming from underwater. "He’s seizing. Get the lorazepam."

Caelum blinked, and the Sanctum returned. The White Giant was the Wave-Lord again, roaring with the sound of a ventilator piston.

* Sorcery,* Caelum thought wildly. *Mind magic. They are trying to confuse me.*

"You can't trick me!" Caelum yelled. He ripped his left arm free from the "water" (which felt strangely like leather straps) and swung his fist at the enemy.

He connected with something soft. A grunt of pain echoed.

"He struck me! Get the restraints!"

The "Drowned Legion" swarmed him. There were three of them now, pressing him down into the water. Caelum felt a sharp sting in his shoulder—a dart? A poisoned blade?

The cold spread through his veins instantly. His vision blurred. The *beeping* sound accelerated, turning into a frantic, staccato rhythm.

* Beep-beep-beep-beep.*

"Lyra..." Caelum groaned. He looked toward the dais.

The fracture in the crystal had widened. The water was up to Lyra’s neck inside her prison. She was gasping, her chest heaving, her mouth opening in a silent scream for air.

The sight broke through the poison in Caelum’s blood. The White Giants, the restraints, the poison—it didn't matter. He was the Sword-Saint. He was her brother.

"NO!"

With a roar that tore his throat, Caelum surged upward. He ignored the hands holding him down. He threw his body weight forward, crashing through the resistance.

He was at the dais. The Wave-Lord loomed over him, reaching for Lyra’s soul.

Caelum didn't hesitate. He thrust *Aethelgard* upward, driving the blade into the center of the Wave-Lord’s watery chest.